Brekk At The River
by Iwilo
Summary: Ham hands don't impress the ladies.
1. Chapter 1

Brekk wiped his hands on his thick hide pants, pausing to poke at a bit of loose stitching in the seam of one leg. "Damn," he grumbled. He gave his hands a sniff, big bovine nostrils flaring. Yep, his hands still smelled like ham. "Damn," he repeated, as he pushed his huge frame into a standing position. His mane itched, but he ignored the compulsion to reach back and scritch at the thick hair that ran from the back of his head to halfway down his spine. Shaking his mane out, he snorted and stretched. The tauren lumbered toward the river.

They'd made their camp in a dry, grassy plain known only as the Barrens. Brekk's bed was a spot on the ground and a tree he could lean back against. His traveling partner, Luanne would make her bed on his chest or the ground nearby. It would be her choice, of course. Luanne wasn't a force to be reckoned with. Besides the tree and the hard ground with its itchy dry grass, they also had Brekk's bow and quiver, as well as a pair of knives he'd "found" on one of those sissy Night Elves that had been unfortunate to cross the hulking tauren's path. "Shoot. He ain't gonna need it no more," Brekk had chuckled to Luanne as he discarded his battered and broken weapons which he had previously "found" on a dwarf. Then he'd pissed on the elf's corpse before gathering his things, and his Luanne, and heading off to new adventures.

Stopping short at the bank, Brekk snorted and shook his mane, one massive hoof pawing nervously at the ground. The river was deep. At least three feet at its deepest point, by the looks of it. He would have to use extreme caution. A vague shape, darker green than the algae that coated the rocky shallows, rose until it was identifiable as an adolescent crocolisk. While it was small enough to fit in the maw of a hungry adult of the same species, it was hardly a hatchling and could certainly deliver one hell of a messy bite.

Startlingly blue eyes studied the croc as it floated a few yards away. With a snort, he shook his head and returned his gaze to the treacherous water. Glancing around furtively, the tauren reached down to remove his pants and toss them haphazardly to the side, where they landed atop a bush. Trying to keep his ham-hands clear of a perfectly clean shirt (He'd only been wearing it a week now and would get another week out of it if he played his cards right. Buying new shirts was a royal ass-pain when you ripped nearly everything you tried on when you moved your arms. It was also expensive), he wiggled his arms and massive shoulders until he had shimmied the shirt up over his head. He was annoyed to hear some ripping sounds as the top of the shirt caught on one horn. "Son of a...," he growled in a deep baritone. The shirt had buttons, but the wearer had huge, three fingered hands, the ends tipped with what resembled little hooves more closely than fingernails. He should have asked the merchant to unbutton the stupid shirt so he could just wear it open. The ladies liked to see a little chest...

There was the hiss of dried grass parting in the wake of something that was either huge or moving clumsily and Brekk tensed, his shirt still over his head, both thick arms pointed skyward. He fairly melted in relief when he heard a very welcome grating voice. "Lulu ya nearly scared the sh-" Brekk tensed again, "Aw LuANNE, I ain't DEcent!," he bellowed as he sought to bring down his hands and cover himself. The shirt made more ripping noises and he snorted and stomped a hoof in frustration. "Lulu Baby? Ya still there?" His inquiry was greeted with silence and he breathed a sigh of relief. He shouldn't have yelled at her like that, but there were some things a man had to do in private, and bathing was one of them, followed closely by shitting. Or maybe vice-versa. He'd have to ponder that the next time he took a shit.

Fuzzy ears twitched at a new sound, that of water being agitated. "Aw now what in the h- GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!," Brekk roared. And this time the shirt did rip, his arms flying down to his sides with a slap as he hollered in pain and leaned forward to see what in the hell was making his leg hurt so bad. "Why you little..." Brekk was in the habit of not finishing his sentences, though he wasn't aware of it and Luanne had never bothered to tell him.

Had there been any passersby, they'd likely have been quite amused at the scene. Here was a burly tauren with a cowboy hat that was a bit small for his big skull, buck-naked with a very brilliant white and cuddly-looking tummy for one so huge and pissed-off, if the thrashing tail were any indicator of mood. Aside from the hat, he wore only a pair of weathered and cracked leather bracers about his wrists. Black spots covered everything but his ever-so-slightly pudgy belly and his face which was also black.

If the sight of the big, muscular, pudgy belly, buck-naked tauren with a tiny hat and a nervously shrunken weiner wasn't comical enough, he was bending forward to stare down at a three-foot-long crocolisk that had left the safety of the river to crawl up the bank and latch itself, in what appeared to be a very painful fashion, onto the bellowing tauren's right leg, just below the knee.

Brekk stopped screaming to stare down at the bothersome little bastard that had sunk inch-long teeth deep into his leg. His pale blue eyes seethed with hatred as he grabbed it by the tail and yanked. It didn't let go. Brekk yelled again but didn't release the thickly scaled and thrashing tail. "Hey hey HEY! Now ya cut that out ya little jerk!" he was referring to the way the crocolisk had tucked in all six of its legs and was now thrashing as if it thought it might take a good chunk of leg-of-Brekk back to its watery home.

He released his grip on the thing's tail, noting with some satisfaction the fact that he had left deep a crimp in it. "Howsat fer a handshake, ya little- OW SHEEEE-IT!" It tightened its bite and dug its rear legs into the ground, attempting to backpedal with the mighty tauren's leg in tow. Looking around frantically, Brekk marched over to the nearest tree, dragging the bothersome croc along with him, and snapped off a pathetically skinny dry branch… More of a stick than a branch… Maybe more like a really long twig.

"Get. The. Hell. OFF!" Brekk yelled, accenting each word with a smack on the croc's streamlined, thrashing body. Further up on the bank, Luanne watched calmly. Her expression was unimpressed. Beady black eyes regarded the tauren, who was now dancing along the shore, whipping the crocolisk that was still fastened to his leg. Blinking mutely, the big pink bird swiveled her head on her long neck and began preening the feathers on her back.

Hissing around the bloody prize it was intent on not releasing, causing a fine froth of red mist to spatter the white fur there, the croc lifted its tail and let loose a watery, rancid stool that managed to flick off its tail and spatter the side of Brekk's uninjured, left leg. "Aw gross! That's just nasty!" Brekk complained, the pitch of his voice rising girlishly in disgust. Recovering his deep, drawling tone, Brekk grumbled angrily, "Oh now yer cruisin' fer a bruisin', mister." Grabbing the repulsively poop-slick tail, Brekk ignored the agonizing white-hot pain that roared through his head and made his ears buzz. He wrenched the crocolisk free, managing to retain most of his leg-flesh, though it was quite shredded.

Roaring senselessly, Brekk brought back his arm, the croc slapping against his shoulder before he launched it, hissing and thrashing through the air toward the opposite bank. The croc's head hit a boulder with a sickening crunch and it slid down the incline until it was half submerged, bloody crushed head lying on the dry shore. Brekk cursed as he watched the very-much-dead croc slide to a halt. "Sheeit, I coulda eaten that," He snorted. "Well, I ain't goin' on the deep side for no stinkin' dead lizard," he continued. The deep side he referred to was a three-foot drop before the bank.

Brekk scratched the short, messy beard, which was black to match the mane, that decorated his chin all the way along his thick square jaw. A breeze kicked up and the wind cooled the flattened-down fur on the top of his head. His hat had gotten knocked off during the epic battle! Snorting loudly, the tauren turned to search the shore. He sighed in relief as he lifted the hat tenderly, shaking it off before sliding it home between the two horns that jutted straight up and then forward from his thick skull. "What smells? Aw fudge!" he exclaimed in disgust. He still had some crocolisk poo on his hand. Luckily, he'd used the unsoiled (but hammy) hand to replace the much-loved cowboy hat.

"Bitch," he stomped one mighty hoof. He made his way back down to the river, tail lashing like an angry snake, hand held far from his body as he stared at it cautiously as though it were a dead thing he'd found in his bedroll (before he'd inadvertently torn it in two during a particularly interesting battle-dream). He wore a disgusted frown, his fat bottom lip sticking out; his uneven white teeth showing a bit. As he leaned forward to wash his hands, something moved on the water's surface. Without hesitation, the naked, angry tauren lifted the nearest rock, which happened to be large enough to require both hands, and slammed it down on… his own reflection. "Oh," he muttered, his ears flattening. He was still a little edgy, apparently.

Shaking his head in disgust, so much for taking a nap after dinner, he stepped gingerly into the water, snorting nervously as he became submerged up to his high, thick unguligrade* ankles. "Ain't that bad," he commented, though his voice was forced and definitely trembled. A shiver ran up his spine and he shook his massive shoulders. "Nope. Not bad at all," he let out a nervous chuckle.

Stooping low, Brekk rinsed his hands thoroughly, rubbing sandy silt between his fingers for good measure. He sniffed his fingers and shook his head at the smell, washing his hands again. With an uncomfortable huffing sound and several loud snorts, the tauren cautiously lowered himself until he was sitting in the shallow water, both legs straight out in front of him. After glancing around prudently, he proceeded to wash his "junk", as he would call it, and then continue to his chest, arms and shoulders. He bent forward, reaching for his own foot, which was a bit of a task, given his bulky build, despite the fact that his arms were very long. Brekk was a very muscular fellow, but agility wasn't one of his strong points. His physical grace ranked somewhere below his reading comprehension level and just above his social skills. "C'mere ya little… gotcha," he rumbled as he used a stick to scrape the dirt off of the bottom of each hoof.

Finally clean, well, as clean as one could get sitting in a shallow river, Brekk stood and cracked his neck. He removed his hat to keep it from escaping again as he shook out his still-dry mane and slapped off the drops of water that tickled his chest and biceps. As he replaced the hat, he turned around to catch his flamingo-colored plainstrider standing on the bank, her thick and scaly legs spread in a wide V shape as she tilted lowered her head and let out a grating cry, "Raaaah."

Brekk automatically removed his hat again and used it to cover himself. "LUAAANE! I _told _ya Daddy ain't decent! Now turn _around_, Babe. I gotta get dressed!" Luanne regarded him with beady eyes, or maybe she merely stared at the sky or the river or the grassy plain that surrounded the unlikely pair. Her eyes were pretty far apart and mostly pupil, so it was tough to ascertain where exactly she was gazing. The inside of his ears flushing a bright scarlet, Brekk shook his head and lowered it as he marched past the motionless, staring bird. "Tell ya a man can't get no _privacy_…" Brekk continued to mutter under his breath as he lumbered back to his retrieve his pants and now-useless shirt from the bushes.

Plainstriders were a large species of bird, comparable in size and form to an ostrich. They had long, sturdy legs that could carry the clumsily fat-looking body at alarming speeds. While they subsided on an omnivorous diet, leaning more toward the herbivorous when given the choice, they had powerful, hooked bills that were useful for tearing flesh. Along with the formidable claws on their feet, a plainstrider was well-equipped to prove a formidable opponent. The animals were notorious for their aggressive attitude and short fuse, and Luanne could be considered no different, though she put up with an unusual amount of clumsy handling by her travel partner. As far as plainstriders went, Luanne was quite stoic.

Eyeing his "girl" cautiously over one shoulder, Brekk hesitantly replaced his hat before reaching for the tan hide pants that he had flung into the bushes. He lifted his left leg and stomped it into the pants. He lifted the right and let out a low whistle before losing his balance and falling onto his ass with a loud thump. The fall on his butt elicited only a quiet grunt from the tauren, whose attention was fixed on his right leg, or more appropriately, the nasty bite that was covered in blood and surrounded by very shredded, furry flesh. "Crap," Brekk moaned, though it came out sounding more like "crayup"

_Piercing_ blue-gray eyes studied the injury closely for several minutes. He sniffed once and batted away a fly that buzzed up near his nose. Flies always seemed to find Brekk; though he wasn't sure what it was that they wanted. As far as he could tell, they just liked to show up in ones and pairs to buzz around his face. He'd had the brilliant idea of getting a frog to sit on his shoulder and take care of the problem, but he'd been a little heavy-handed in capturing the frog and, needless to say it wasn't in any condition to be on any shoulder doing any job. So he'd cooked and eaten it.

Unblinking, _icy_ eyes took in every detail and nuance of the ragged, damaged flesh. Strands of muscle showed in the center of the deep rip. "Hmm. That ain't good," he commented quietly.

Brilliant, _sky-colored_ eyes, the skin between them wrinkling with growing concern, flicked from side to side as they carefully inspected the wound he had sustained from his epic battle. After ten minutes of staring intently, barely blinking, Brekk had come to a conclusion. "Yep. That's a bite."

After yanking his pants on, the act of which brought forth another roar of pain, Brekk stood and shook his head at the two halves of his shirt, which lay spread in the mud like the tattered wings of a giant, dead butterfly. Without the stress of being nude to distract him, the tauren was very aware of the ache in his lower leg. Limping slightly, he gathered the empty sack where he kept his food and water skins. "C'mon Lulu," he mumbled in defeat. The two headed downriver to find the bridge that would take them to Durotar. Then it would be a long trek across the desert to the nearest town, known as Orgrimmar.

A fly buzzed around the pile of stripped ham-bones the tauren had left behind. Landing in the deep crater where he'd planted his ass, it swiveled its head from side to side, rubbing threadlike legs over its eyes before returning to the pile of salty bones.

* * *

*Unguligrade refers to the legs of animals that have hooves with high ankles, and can also be used to describe the animals that walk on such legs. Take, for instance, a horse. Or a draenei. Or a tauren! It's a clumsy word and definitely one of my favorites n_n

Website with stupid Brekk screenshots: YayMyStories . com


	2. Chapter 2

The sun was nearly halfway through its downward arc, delivering a much-deserved clemency to the baking desert sand as the light changed and the heat became more bearable. A small, grey lizard crept out hesitantly from beneath a large boulder. It walked slowly; the round tail, which looked like another head but without facial feature and served as a fat and water store, allowing it to survive when there was no available sustenance, dragged lazily behind it.

The gecko licked the line-split, sand colored orbs that were its eyes and turned its round head slowly from the right to the left, undecided as to where to begin the early-evening hunt. Mere feet away, there was a hole in the desert floor, not much wider than the lizard itself. Something within must have stirred, for bits of sand around the previously still edge began to break loose and tumble inward. The gecko turned its head toward the hole; tongue still out and laying over one eye as it paused. Its tail lifted, jiggling in anticipation like a fat worm as the tongue slowly retracted and it lifted one skinny arm slowly into the air. It began a strange march toward the spot, pausing and then moving rapidly. With each step its limbs lifted high as if it were waving at its intended target.

Just as the lizard was within a foot of the near-hidden burrow that blended so well with the terrain, something emerged from the hole. It was a vague outline, sand-colored and slick-looking, the only notable features a pair of dots that served as nostrils with a third hole between and beneath them. Suddenly, a very slender and forked black tongue flicked from the gap in the mouth, tasting the air quickly before it again disappeared.

The lizard remained perfectly still as the snake's head emerged from its burrow and they both stared. Sharp eyes sized up their opponent. The snake's rudimentary brain effortlessly registered the other as food; the lizard's likewise tiny brain telling it to flee. In a blur of motion that sprayed sand in several directions at once, the lizard turned and began to dash across the sand, its speed shocking for the long, wide body and tiny limbs, the clumsy tail in tow. In that same instant, the snake darted forward, its belly scales keeled and ridged to allow it to flow effortlessly across the sand that would easily slow its forest and mountain dwelling cousins. The lizard flung itself randomly from one side to the other, zigzagging and doubling back, but the snake managed to keep up, coming dangerously close to striking distance. Two tiny, cold-blooded hearts raced as the reptiles continued the chase between cacti and dry, stunted plants.

Just as it appeared that the lizard was finished a huge foot, gray and scaly with massive black talons, bore down upon the snake, pinning and shredding it before flinging it backward in a limp heap. The lizard darted away before the raptor-like foot's twin could come crashing down on it… only to be crushed lifeless by a tremendous, round hoof.

"_LuAAAANE_!" Brekk panted, "Slow down, Baby girl. Yer gonna give daddy a mastiff core-uh-_nation_." That was techniful-talk for heart attack. Big Brekk liked big words. They showed how smart he was. The ladies liked a smart guy, especially a self educated one.

The big, white-with-black-spots tauren snorted and swiped at his pants idly as Luanne kicked up a very dead snake and it whacked him in the knee. He turned his head to the left, toward where he knew the river was, though it wasn't within sight. He didn't notice the dead, flattened gecko lizard that clung to his foot for several steps, arms spread as if it were holding the bottom of the hoof in a backwards hug before it peeled off and landed on the ground. He was too busy thinking about his injury, or more accurately what he might have to get done. If he had to get that damn leg cut off, he was going to get one of them fancy solid oak ones with a built-in canteen and an ammunition pouch with a trap door for hiding stuff. Maybe with a hook in the back (a real hook, not some crappy looking nail) he could use to… drag things or something. Yeah, that would look real slick. He'd never actually seen or heard of one of those, but they sounded like a good idea so he was sure someone had already thought to make one. He might have to pay extra for one his own size. Maybe he could get a tattoo painted on it, for the ladies. Something macho, like a snake or a pile of dead elves. Maybe just a snake. The elf thing might upset the elf ladies, and he wanted to keep his options open.

Brekk mulled over the features of his new soon-to-be-wooden leg as the two plodded onward.

As both tauren and plainstrider entered the city, he limping between the two silent, orcish guards as she followed silently, Brekk looked around for a mailbox. Sighting one not too far away, he made his way to it and drew forth a bit of food-spattered parchment and an ink-pen. After unwrapping the inkwell and filling it from a vial, Brekk carefully dipped the pen in the ink. He pinned the parchment sheet to the top of the mailbox with one thick thumb. His huge hand dwarfed the pen, so that its tip was barely visible beneath his fist. With his fat tongue sticking out between his crooked teeth, curled studiously over his black upper lip, Brekk began to write:

Deer Kwin,

Hi this is Brekk with too K's rumembr? The Torin with tha chest and tha hat that u fel in luv with? Enyway, I just want too upolijiz for mising owr dayt last munth. I wusn theyer on tim on akownt uv I got my hed stuk in a dam tree. Krazy, rit? I trid too send u a few lettrz befoor but I gess u dint get thos. Unles u dont no how too reed then I sujest u get sumwun too reed this too u. Dont bee too shi abowt if ucant reed beecoz I dont think uwer stoopid or enethin. I dont want u too think I dont respek u r nuthin beecuz uwer reely hot and we got gud kemstree. OK so I hop u ant ded or nuthin. Luv BIG Brekk With too K's!

Slobbering on the envelope, Brekk dropped the letter into the box, thick fingers leaving behind trail of ink smudges all over the splintery wood. Having sent his three-hundred and thirty-third letter since his ill-fated first attempt at a date, "Damn stupid tree," Brekk replaced the items in his pack and slung it over his shoulder with a snort and shake of his mane.

Larizu stood back, hands on his narrow hips as he stretched tall and cracked his neck. He admired his work with a slight grin and a nod. His apothecary had gotten to the point he couldn't find anything he needed and still have time to cure his patients before they died. And resurrection was taxing and just not worth the extra gold he charged. Shit, if they dropped dead waiting, they should have come sooner. "Healin' ain't free, mon!" was his standard retort to any who thought to dispute the additional fee.

Now there was a place for everything, and everything in its place and he couldn't be gladder to have gotten the boring task of reorganizing finished. There was a pile of satchels and discarded vials, filled to different volumes with herbs and tinctures that had gone a little off. He would deal with those later, making a section for them among his things; a place for the supplies needed to heal the paranoid whiners that were willing to part with their gold for minor flesh wounds. Shoot he was a healer, not a diagnostician. Well, he was a healer first and did diagnoses second or third...

At any rate, the job was done and now to get back to some serious bullshitting with the nearby vendors. Larizu gave his work one last glance and then dusted off his hands dramatically before turning for the door of his hut – And flying backward into the shelf, knocking all of the jars, satchels and vials to the floor.

Slapping some loose herbs from his red rooster's crown of a mohawk, the troll struggled to his big, two-toed feet, dragging the remaining vials off of his shelf in his haste. "Aw FUCK mon! What da hell ya be tinkin'?" he shouted at the one who had chest-bumped him clean across the hut. He shook his head and came face to face with the brutish tauren… And paused.

To say that the tauren's long, black face was angry would be an understatement. The burly male snorted and shook his mane, nostrils flaring as his fists clenched at his sides. Oh shit. Had Larizu really let his gambling debts go so far that they'd sent… this? No sense in doing goblins dirty. They were professionals of dirty-doing. Larizu suddenly felt forgiving, and a bit sweaty under the arms.

"Oh, hey mon. No harm done, right? We even, bruddah. Don't see fit to charge ya for all dem _precious_ healin' supplies… So we just call it bought time, see? I ain't got much in da way o' gold on me, at da moment." He gestured with his hands as he spoke, fingers wiggling like insects, palms flapping about like butterflies.

"Yeah yeah. I got yer gold, Bub. How much is it gonna run me?" Larizu blinked. The tauren blinked back. With a sigh of relief, Larizu realized the look he had mistaken for rage was one of pain with a dose of slight annoyance. The troll nodded, looking as sincerely sympathetic as his greedy grin would allow. Pain was good (as long as it wasn't his). Pain he liked to see. It meant profit. Not that he was a monster. He would truly be heartbroken to find that he couldn't do anything to ease the suffering of a client. But business was business, and this tauren looked like business to him.

"So how much is it gonna run me, Pal?" the tauren asked, his expression not too chummy despite his words. "All yer gold and den some, sucker," Larizu thought. "Well, ya gotta show me what be needin' healin'," Larizu said. The tauren's tail swished in agitation. He swallowed as he stared at the troll levelly, as if trying to ascertain whether or not he was to be trusted. Larizu folded his hands in a saintly fashion and batted his eyelids, smiling.

Brekk's ears flicked and he snorted again. "Well ya see, I got in this epic battle," Larizu nodded to show he was listening, and the tauren continued. "This darn crocolisk thought ta make me into his lunch. Didn't take too kindly to that. So I threw him across the river." Larizu blinked when the tauren didn't continue. "Idiot," he muttered. The tauren twisted his head sideways and looked at him with one startlingly pale blue eye. "…'sat Bub?" Larizu chuckled condescendingly, shaking his folded hands in the tauren's direction. "I said ya gotta show me da bite, 'less ya be askin' me ta heal da croc."

The tauren turned his face forward again, clumsy boulder-sized hands, hands that looked designed for crushing and not much else, opening and closing slowly. Larizu had time to wonder at the undersized hat squeezed between the tauren's horns. His broad chest rose and fell, but he didn't immediately respond and Larizu wondered if maybe the tauren didn't understand, perhaps wasn't "all there".

Brekk hesitated before continuing in his deep baritone, "See, that's tha thing. It's my leg." He pointed one meaty finger down at his left leg to emphasize the point.

"Have a s-," Larizu glanced around at the pair of rickety wooden stools that served as seats and shook his head once, blinking. Enough shit in his hut was broken for one day. "Show me da leg," he said, crouching down, reaching into his red and gold striped sarong and pulling out a pair of tiny bent wire-frame glasses that he had rifled from a human corpse and which had proven quite useful. When the tauren just stood there, Larizu craned his neck to look up at him. "Mon, pull up ya pant leg. Dese ain't no x-ray specs."

"Can't. Too tight," the tauren scratched his chin with his black hoof-fingernail-things. Larizu sighed and looked back down at the leg. Sure enough, the tauren's ill-fitting leather pants were fit snugly at the bottoms. Come to think of it, how on the gods' green Azeroth did the dumb bastard manage to pull them over his crooked cow legs? Larizu slapped a hand over his forehead in exasperation. "Take ya pants off."

This time the tauren didn't hesitate to respond. "Woah woah woah! I knew I shouldn't trust no man in a skirt. I oughta cream yer corn, Buster." What the? Was this cow for real? "Tell me where I can find a healer that ain't into tha funny business, Bub, 'cause I ain't buyin' what yer sel-"

"My name ain't Buster or Bub, mon. It be Larizu, and I only need ta see da damn leg," Larizu snapped, at his wit's end.

The tauren eyed him cautiously, tail doing an anxious snake dance behind him. He shrugged. "Alright Larry, but no funny st-"

"It's Larizu, Bub." Brekk snorted. What the hell kinda name was that? "Larry-Sue? Oh man, ya sure ya ain't funny?" Brekk held out a hand and rocked it from side to side in a so-so gesture. He frowned down at the troll who furrowed his brow and glared back up at him.

"Let's just go wit Larry, den, Buster," Larizu groaned, clearly frustrated. "It ain't Buster. It's Brekk. With two k's." "FINE MON! BREKK! Take ya damn pants off!" Brekk's eyes went wide and he held out his hands to silence the troll. "Holy_ crap_, Larry. Keep it down with that!" Not wanting any ladies to hear the crazy troll screaming about taking off any clothes, Brekk quickly hustled out of his pants. He glared down at the troll, daring him to try any "funny stuff".

Larry raised an eyebrow at the tauren's undergarment. The ridiculously undersized pair of underwear were so grotesquely stretched that they resembled giant versions of something that would look mighty fine on a female. Suppressing a shudder, Larizu used a finger to push the spectacles further up his nose and bent to look at the shredded leg. He would never look at women's undergarments the same. This was going to cost Brekk with two k's extra.

Brekk stared down at Larizu and Larizu stared at Brekk's mangled lef. He reached out and moved aside a dangling flap of flesh, to better inspect the deep wound beneath. Brekk shifted from hoof-to-hoof and huffed quietly but for the most part he kept his peace.

"Yeah, mon, it look pretty gross," Larizu dropped the flap and pressed lightly around the outer edges, not feeling any of the intense heat that accompanies infection, "but fixable." Brekk sighed with relief, "So ya ain't gonna cut it off?" Larizu allowed himself a quiet chuckle, "Not unless ya want me to."

Pressing his lips together as he stared at the far wall (man this guy's place was messy. You'd think he'd clean up every once in a while) Brekk pondered this a moment before shaking his head. "Nope. Leave it on, but fix the hole in it."

"Mon, did it occur to ya at any point to wash da ting off?" Larizu commented as he looked at the grit and dirt that clung to the wound. He picked off a piece of grass that clung to the raw, twitching muscle and dropped it to the floor, wiping his fingers on his sarong. Brekk looked down at him blankly. "Took a bath right after it happened." Brekk appeared to be chewing something, though he hadn't put anything in his mouth. Yes. He was definitely chewing something. Larizu decided not to argue, assuming the term bath was synonymous with "roll in wet dirt" in the tauren's vocabulary.

Placing his hands on his knees and then pushing off so that he was standing in a typical troll's stooped posture, Larizu looked at Brekk. Brekk looked back, still chewing. "Dis gonna run ya at least ten gold, mon." He was surprised to see the tauren nod as if he threw ten gold around all day long. "Might be more," Larizu added smoothly. The tauren shrugged. Now he could pay off half his debt and still have some gold to gamble with. Very nice.

"Wait here." Larizu pushed passed Brekk and exited the hut, followed by a low sigh, "I ain't goin' nowhere else, Pal."

Larizu went around behind the hut and grabbed a bucket. Marching to one of the several nearby, shallow ponds that dotted Orgrimmar, he filled it and began making his way back to the hut. Something fast as hell, taller than a blood elf, and very purple sprinted past on his right, causing him to not only drop the bucket, but to fall on his ass in the shallows as well. "Ah hell, mon!"

Brekk stood in the hut, staring into space as he pondered the endless possibilities of ham. His mind had just wandered to potatoes when he lifted his head, muscles going rigid, eyes becoming bright blue saucers, pupils shrinking to mere pinpoints. He swallowed the cud he'd been working on and parted his thick, black lips to reveal a row of very crooked, yellowed teeth. His nostrils flared as he tilted his head further back and took a deep sniff.

Luanne sat outside of the hut, apathetic as usual as she remained stock-still, beady eyes barely blinking as she mimicked a taxidermied specimen of her species. Her feathers stood out and she was suddenly standing erect on her ridiculously thin legs as she let out a caw in reaction to the tauren's hoarse whisper, "Night Elf."

"Lawl! Lawl!" The offensive sounds of undeniably night elf origin caused Brekk's ears to flatten as he lunged from the hut, scooping up his bow and quiver and slinging the strap over one bulging arm. "Teach ya ta bring that pansy talk ta Orgrimmar," the tauren growled between bared teeth.

Shaking his mane, stomping past several shocked vendors, the near-naked tauren had completely forgotten about his shredded leg. It was called _priorifying_. Sometimes ya just had to drop what you were doing for the glory… and the ladies… and to kill a sissy purple-haired girlie-man Night Elf. Luanne squawked as her long legs carried her past Brekk, both travel-partners experiencing the all-consuming tunnel-vision adrenaline of the hunt.

Hooves beating relentlessly at the dirt road, trailing a thick cloud of dust in his wake, Brekk let out a booming, undulating cry, "CHAAAAAAARGE!"

The half-dozen guards who had been pursuing the rogue invader stopped in their tracks and turned back whence they'd come. One of the newer guards peered around questioningly until his leader leaned in and placed a rough green hand on the younger orc's heavily armored shoulder. "Heard that sound, right?" The confused orc nodded, never needing to question what sound his superior was referring to. It had sounded like the great black dragon, Deathwing himself, had chosen that moment to take the meanest shit in all of Azeroth and given himself a mile-long hemorrhoid in the process. "That, my friend, is the sound of a very stupid Night Elf's doom… It's called Brekk. I'll tell you about it over a keg," he slapped the young guard's upper back chummily, "You're buying."

As pink plainstrider and Holstein tauren rounded a bend in the road, they stopped short, spraying up a fan of dirt and pebbles that obscured both their vision. "Oh fer cryin'," Brekk ground the dirt out of his eyes with his right fist, his left still holding the five-foot-tall bow that was one of his most prized possessions. As the dust cleared, they beheld their quarry. It was a typical Night Elf male. At 6'11", weighing over two hundred pounds of mostly lean muscle, the elf would easily overpower any adversary. But Brekk wasn't any adversary. "I ain't just any anniversary, Bub!" He was a master hunter. He was, "Big Brekk…" and he was gonna rip this guy a new one, "… is gonna rip ya a new one, Pal!"

Orgrimmar was built in a carved-out section of mountain. The roads were walled in by cliffs of red and brown striated stone. The elf stood with his back near a concave stone wall, a pair of sharp and heavy-looking swords in his hands, which he waved with serpentine grace. His glowing silver eyes took in the bird and the tauren and he gave a slight nod, tossing his long, shiny blue hair over his shoulder.

Looking at the Elf in front of him, the pale violet skin, the eyes that glowed like tiny moons and the hair that sparkled in the fading sunlight, nearly made Brekk vomit. He shook his head and snorted. Plenty of time to puke later. Right now he had a city to save. Cracking his neck, he pointed one hoof-tipped finger at the incense-and-roses scented intruder. "Say goodnight, Gracie!"

The Night Elf nodded again, flipping the swords idly in his hands, a smug grin on his long, chiseled face. His tone was as teasing as it was dangerous, "K'maht meebra. K'maht mee n'geh t'pwnd, Noob nub." Brekk lifted the ridiculously long bow and smoothly drew an arrow, aiming it at the elf. "Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha," The Night Elf let out an obnoxiously slow laugh, perfect white teeth winking between his purple lips. He tilted his head and shook it at Brekk. With a sigh, he continued his lilting fairy-song of a speech, causing Brekk's stomach to churn with nausea, "O'mga w'tfuu b'bkwa. K'maht meebra." He gestured toward himself with one of the swords, inviting Brekk to do his best.

Then, to Brekk's horror, the Night Elf spoke in plain Orcish, his enunciation perfect, "Together," he teased, raising an eyebrow, "… we eat," he leaned forward, moonglow eyes flashing dangerously, "… cookie." He had whispered the last word but the sound carried across the narrow stone valley to the tauren's burning ears as if it were screamed.

Choking on his disgust, Brekk took a deep breath and bellowed off the top of his lungs, "NEVEEEEEEEEEEEER!" as he loosed the arrow, the tight bow making a loud, pwang! sound as the arrow cut through the air for its target. In a sudden blur of motion, the Night Elf spun, deflecting the arrow with his blade. A deep rumble of laughter escaped the tall, purple elf's throat before he'd even stopped spinning. He was a swirl of blue hair, green and gold armor and long, sharp blades. "Ha! _Ee_seemoad! HahahahOOF!"

But just as the Night Elf landed, his nonsensical address was abruptly cut off by a similarly speedy blur, only this one was flamingo-pink. Luanne had timed her jump so that she crashed between two armor plates, nailing the Night Elf's inner thigh with the speed of a bullet, if a bullet were an obese pink bird. She had timed the leap perfectly, or had gotten really lucky. At either rate, the elf was startled enough so that he paused to shift his incredulous gaze to the long-beaked, beady-eyed projectile that had so rudely punched into his thigh, leaving at least a bruise if it didn't tear the flesh.

Brekk had already nocked another arrow and his triumphant roar sounded even before the wickedly sharp point had exited the back of the elf's violet skull. The elf fell backward, eyes crossed and staring upward at the brown and white feathers of the fletching that protruded there.

A shadow slowly overcame the elf, creeping over where he was slumped against the stone wall, a streak of bright crimson marking the path the back of his skull had taken as he slid into a sitting position, legs splayed, hands twitching ineffectively about the hilts of the twin swords. The elf uncrossed his eyes and fixed them on the one who now towered over him; the one who had slain him. Still-bright eyes blinked and observed the tauren.

Brekk reached and wrested one of the heavy swords from the dying Night Elf's weakening grip. The elf released the sword without argument, his chest rising and falling quite evenly for one who faced their imminent death. The entrance wound from the arrow shaft was surprisingly clean, though the back of the shattered skull was a gory mess, hidden beneath the elf's thick hair.

Awaiting the killing blow, the elf parted his lips one last time, to accept his defeat with honor. "Pwned," he smiled at the tauren, since he was unable to nod respectfully. His teeth were bright with his own blood. With a mighty cry, the tauren lifted his newfound blade and brought it down in one swift motion. Blood spattered the tauren's face. Luanne had been smart enough to move out of the way the minute Brekk's arrow flew, and she managed to avoid the gore shower that erupted from the severed neck. The elf's head rolled away, thumping up into the air each time the still-embedded arrow hit the ground. "Pwn that," Brekk said through gritted teeth.

There was nothing left to do except piss on his fallen adversary's corpse. Brekk looked down at the sword in his hand, which more closely resembled an overlong dagger in his grip. He felt its perfectly balanced weight and let out a low whistle, "Ni-hi-_hice_! Feels good, too." Bending to take the matching sword first, it wouldn't do to piss on a perfectly good weapon, Brekk grinned and straightened. He kept both swords in hand, reaching out with his thumbs to slide out his old weapons and let them fall to the ground. With the new weapons wrapped securely in the two fingers of each hand, Brekk grinned at his new find as his thumbs found… nothing.

Suddenly, the tauren's face went quite slack. He swallowed and turned his gaze to Luanne, who was now standing rudely on top of the felled elf's chest, pecking at a shiny green gem that was imbedded in the sickeningly garish armor. Luanne's hooked bill scrabbled uselessly against the fast-stuck gem. Her dry, gray tongue wiggled over the faceted surface. She tired of worrying the shiny object and lifted her head to stare back at Brekk. She waited to see if he would feed her.

Brekk nodded, "I'm standin' around in my underwear, ain't I?" Luanne lifted her head and stared at him with what he assumed was shock. Maybe horror. Crap. "… … … crayup." Brekk let his thumbs join his fingers in their grip around the comfortably heavy weapons. He smacked his lips as if he had a bad taste in his mouth, cracked his thick, hunched neck, and turned back the way they had come. Several onlookers had gathered and now stared at the black-and-white, blood-covered tauren that wore only a bow, a quiver, a tiny hat, a gold ring that pierced his septum, and what appeared to be thong underwear. His long arms drooped lazily, two swords in his grip. They ogled the felled Night Elf and its detached head, which lay several yards away. Some of them blinked in surprise at the gigantic plainstrider that was perched on the corpse's chest, or rather at the plainstrider's shocking pink feathers.

Eyeing the gathered orcs, trolls, and one tauren that was either small or female, Brekk snorted and shook his mane. "Ain't ya never seen no epic battle?" His inquiry was met with startled silence, "GET LOST ya lookie-loos!"

The crowd dispersed quickly before the mad-looking tauren, whose tail lashed wildly as he waved both swords menacingly. A little orc youngling looked up at his mother as she dragged him away, his short legs barely keeping up with her strides. She looked down into his pudgy green face, his wide-eyed stare. "Momma, what's a lookie-loo and why does the bloody tauren have string for underwear?" Pursing her lips, his mother lifted the boy into her arms and quickened her pace. "I don't know. You'll have to ask your father."

Fuming, his mane bristling, Brekk began to limp back the way he'd come, Luanne trailing not far behind. As he passed a group of vendors, Brekk jerked a thumb over his shoulder; the sword he still held just missed his ear, "Gonna need a cleanup," he said a trifle too loudly, "Aisle… er… Valley of Spirits." He heard a few chuckles after he passed, but he had to priorificate certain matters, such as pants retrieval, over the satisfaction of setting a few knuckleheads straight.

* * *

So, there you have it. Part three should be forthcoming shortly. I'm doing a few series at once right now, which is sort of how I roll. Hope it gave you a bit of the giggle-fits. PLEASE comment. Send me your love, your hate, and of course your constructive criticism… And then delete the hate and just send me your love. Brekk currently resides on the Moon Guard realm (US). I've mostly been leveling my drood Kekkek lately, but I do hop on Brekkie-boy from time to time. Hit me up for some random rp. Usernames: I'wilo, Fybe, Brekk, Kekkek, Blaktriegg. Information about characters and some simple personal rp rules are at YayMyStories (my website)

I don't own WoW or have sex with Blizzard but my characters are my own creation.

Happy Gaming


	3. Chapter 3

It was rapidly becoming dark, the shadowy recesses of the city growing and spreading, creeping steadily upward to devour any last remnant of light. All throughout the deep, stone-walled valleys of Orgimmar, torches would soon be lit. The bonfire that was held nightly at the city's southeastern center was being constructed.

Larizu returned with the final bucket and dumped it into the tub. Hopefully it was big enough to squeeze that jackass Brekk into. Had that been his bird standing outside the hut? Strange, indeed, but no stranger than the tiny hat the tauren kept squeezed between his two sharp-looking horns.

Hiking his dress – CORRECTION, his _sarong_ – up over his large knees, the long-limbed troll crouched on the dry-rotting wooden plank that served as his hut's front stoop. He jammed a finger in his right ear and wiggled it around, the two toes of his left foot flexing and relaxing as he scratched the itchy spot. Having taken care of that discomfort, he settled down to wait.

The wait wasn't long.

Brekk kept his chin high, his ears forcibly forward as he tried to control the agitated thrashing of his tail. Yep. Nothing to see here. Just a butt-naked tauren and his pink bird on a stroll with their shiny new weapons. He felt relief as he beheld the troll waiting on his front stoop – er, piece of wood. Then relief turned to annoyance at the big cheesy grin the self-professed healer wore. "Somethin' funny, Larry?"

Larizu quirked a hairless brow and shook his head, the toothy grin still quite evident between curled tusks. Brekk stood before him, tiny underwear looking ready to commit suicide-by-shredding to escape the hellish torment of the oversized ass they were forced to accommodate. His broad chest rose and fell, fists clenched at his sides. Larizu fought the urge to giggle at the tauren's comedic and obvious discomfort. "Forget anyting, Brekk-wid-two-K's?"

The troll lunged to his feet and stumbled into the hut just in time to avoid being mown down and trampled by the tauren's two tremendous hooves as Brekk shouldered his way into the tiny workspace-slash-abode. Bending deeply, he snatched up his pants, giving Larizu a very unattractive view of floss-thin stretched fabric. Larizu shuddered and nearly let him put the things on before he threw up a hand. "_Wait_! Wait, wait, _wait_. I ain't even healed ya yet, mon! Now set ya ass down and let me tend to dat ting before ya DO end up needin' a woodan leg!" Brekk turned slowly, pants in one hand, the other hand laying across the back of his neck. "You sell those?"

"Sell- ? NO I don't sell no damn woodan legs! Now drop da damn pants and get in da tub, bruddah!" Brekk looked around the cluttered space and paused as his eyes alighted on the huge wooden tub. There was no way he was getting in there. "I ain't getting' in that. No way." He'd just had a bath for gosh sakes! "I just took a bath for gosh sakes!" He'd already told the troll that. "I already TOLD ya that!" Shaking his mane and snorting, he turned his head to face the troll, the bridge of his nose wrinkled defiantly beneath piercing blue eyes. "I turned around and wrinkled my no-"

Larizu blinked, "What?" Brekk shook his head and snorted, "Nevermind that," he waved a hand dismissively, "I do that sometimes." This moron had to be kidding. "Dis moron had ta be kiddin'," Larizu responded. "What?" The tauren's eyes narrowed. Larizu shrugged on shoulder and answered in a condescending sneer, "I do dat sometimes too."

They stared each other down for a good minute.

"You messin' with me, Buddy?"

"No, I'm tellin' ya dat if ya don't get in da damn tub ya can collect ya hat and ya bird and ya tiny underpants and get da hell out. Shit. Letcha leg rot… Ain't worth da trouble!" Larizu crossed his arms and sniffed, lifting his pointy nose and chin and turning slightly away. It was difficult for him not to laugh.

When Brekk spoke, his voice was hushed and tentative. "Larry?" Larizu lifted his chin slightly higher, holding his breath to keep his shoulders from shaking with laughter. "Hey, uh, Larry?" Brekk frowned and held both palms outward in an appeasing gesture. The pants still dangled off of one thumb. "Listen, Buddy, I really need this leg fixed, especially if ya ain't in the wooden leg business, on accounta I don't know where the hell ta get one and I'd probably have ta wait fer them ta make one the right size..." Brekk edged closer, leaning to the side and trying to look Larizu in the eyes, but the troll only stubbornly turned further away.

Larizu thought the idiotic tauren would have done well to wait for _underpants_ his own size, but he held his tongue as the big moron groveled.

"Larry?... Larry… LARRY!" Brekk's temper began to boil over as he grit his crooked teeth in annoyance. "Listen ya skinny son of a b-". Larizu whipped his head around to fix the tauren with his crimson gaze. Brekk caught himself immediately, "What I mean ta say is I could really use yer help with this… Whaddaya say, Pal?" Larizu didn't know if he wanted to laugh or vomit. Instead, he flung his arms wide and hissed, "Get in da damn tub."

Brekk unclenched his teeth as he licked his lips nervously. "Sure. Sure thing, pal." He turned to survey the dangerously deep water and the equally treacherous narrow container that housed it. Hiking up one thread-bare hip of his stretched underpants (A very unnecessary consideration, given that the fabric cut into him like twine on a cooked ham), the tauren lifted a hoof and lowered it carefully into the wooden tub.

The water was cool. He didn't like it. Snorting, he picked up the other foot and stomped it into the tub. He stood there, staring down at the water that covered part of his calves, with a frown on his face. "Suck a duck," he murmured, shaking his head and lowering himself until he sat. More than a little water splashed over the sides and Larizu rushed over to shove his sleeping mat out of the way before it could get soaked.

Arms crossed, Brekk sat in the tub and glared angrily at the troll. "Happy?" His tone suggested that he neither cared about Larizu's happiness nor was he happy himself.

"Trilled. Now clean it." Larizu shoved a washing cloth at the tauren with one hand, the other proffering a bar that was a sickly green hue with mixed in chunks of brown, yellow and orange. "Ugh," Brekk commented as he took the bar and sniffed it dubiously. Larizu was thinking the same thing. The bar looked like a block of pure ugly and he knew it didn't smell much better… Plus, he knew the ingredients that had gone into the nasty concoction.

"Clean it," the troll repeated, over his shoulder for he was now turned away and lifting the top of a lantern to light it. It was getting darker. Larizu all but did a back flip when a long pink neck and head darted into the hut, accompanied by a grating squawk and a wiggling gray tongue. "Out! Get da hell out, ya nasty ting!" He started to shoo at the plainstrider, but pulled his hands back when it snapped at him. He glanced around for a weapon to poke at the overgrown ostrich-monster but before he could find one there was a splash and Brekk roared, "Don't you scream at my bird!"

Beef and poultry. Yes, maybe Larizu would have a nice red meat stew with leg-of-plainstrider for dinner.

The bird in question fully entered the hut, settling down just inside the door to stare blankly at nothing in particular. "It better not be shittin' in here, mon," Larizu warned. Brekk waved the bar of skanky in the air and snorted, "She ain't a _it_, she's my _girl_, and she ain't gonna do none-a-that indoors," he turned to the beady-eyed bird, "Don'tcha listen ta that nasty troll, Babydoll. Some men just don't know how ta treat a lady."

Larizu didn't stop to question the relationship between giant bird and giant-er tauren. To do so could mean one very exploded troll head. He pressed his hands to either side of his skull, in case it decided to blow apart anyway. "Bruddah, just wash da damn leg so I can do my ting." While his head hadn't (yet) exploded, he was getting one ungodly bitch of a headache.

Turning back to his ruined shelf, Larizu began selecting herbs and dropping them into a wide, shallow bowl. He mumbled to himself as he brushed what was left of his earthroot supply into his palm. "N'tikta zala tu'or Loa Hakkar. Hmph… Zutikta ha'atik a baanta," he nodded to himself, "Ee. Aha. _Zu_tikta. Ee." He hoped Luanne didn't ken Zandalari. He'd hate to offend a "Lady". Shrugging his hunched shoulders, the troll dusted the crumbled root into the bowl and stood.

"Mon, what da HELL ya doin' now?" Brekk glanced up from his work, tongue still pressed between his black lips in concentration. "I'm cleanin' it." Larizu set the bowl down on a low, rickety workbench before he could give into the seductive urge to break it over the tauren's thick skull. Brekk, apparently satisfied with his answer, turned back to the injury. His left hand held the wash cloth, pinched between the thumb and one finger, though it was difficult to tell which was which. Maybe he just had three thumbs. At any rate, the cloth was being used to dab at the wound ineffectually. Perhaps "dab" was too strong a word. From where Larizu stood, it appeared as though the tauren were waving the cloth at the wound. The right hand wasn't much help either, clutching the bar in the air and squeezing the rigid block of noisome herbs and … things, out of shape.

With mounting agitation, Larizu stomped up to the tub, his big, two-toed feet nearly slipping in the over-spill despite the fact that the tauren was still mostly dry. "Give it to me," Larizu demanded. Brekk turned slowly toward the troll, "Come again?" "I said give me da damn cloth!" Brekk shrugged and handed the half-dry washcloth over. "Am I healed?" Larizu was sure if the tub were large enough to accommodate it, he'd have shoved the tauren's head underwater right then. Then he'd eat his bird and shit in his tiny hat.

"Ya really are stupid, mon," Larizu plunged the cloth into the water, wetting his arm up to the wrist beneath the tauren's wary gaze. He held out the other hand, "Bar." Brekk's expression was unreadable as he placed the now-smashed bar into the troll's hand. "Now hold da hell st-" Brekk shifted about in the tub, sending more water onto the floor. "Wait up," he held up a hand that was green with herbs and… other stuff. "What?"

Brekk shook his mane, further upsetting the water, "Is it gonna hurt?" Larizu pursed his lips and blew out a sharp breath. "Well, ya see mon, dat all depends." Brekk lowered his muzzle and stared back at the troll suspiciously, "Depends on what?"

"Does _dis_ hurt?" Larizu reached out and slapped the exposed muscle with the rolled up cloth. He was rewarded with an explosive bellowing shout that set his ears ringing and blew a few of Luanne's feathers out of place, though she remained calm (or unconscious) as if this were a regular, everyday occurrence, which it was. The tauren spent more air on the roaring cry than it seemed could fit into one even as large as he; the veins in his neck and the muscles and tendons in his arms and chest stood out in bas-relief. Eyes bulging, Brekk nodded furiously, "YES!"

"Oh, good. Den dis won't be as bad," Larizu began washing the wound quickly and efficiently, removing all of the dirt, grit, dried grass, and what appeared to be a dead fly from the bared muscle and spotted skin flaps. The tauren didn't speak but his fists were clenched tightly and his breathing was fast and deep, accented by the occasional snort. There was a distinct but quiet sound, suspiciously like a moo, emanating from his chest area. Once the majority of solid bits were removed, Larizu grabbed the green bar –

Correction; Larizu grabbed the green _amorphous mass_ and spread it all over the cloth before reapplying it and cleaning the wound over again. His face was wrinkled in disgust at the funky, musty-sour and rotten odor of the bar, as was Brekk's. Both males kept their noses pointed to the side, breathing between clenched teeth. Larizu, being aware of the ingredients that went into the bar, wished he had on some gloves. Medicinal or not, some things were just too nasty to go around touching.

A half hour had passed and Brekk stood tall and intact on a very organic and still-living leg, though unfortunately that meant no painted-on tattoo (that would look stupid on a natural leg) or metal hook for dragging things. Still, he was grateful to have the whole mess over and done with. And he was caught up on baths for quite a while. It would be many moons before Brekk planned to get anywhere near water again. His underwear was still damp and he shifted and tried to pick it out of his butt-crack. He only succeeded in somehow shoving it deeper.

Larizu had finished checking the bandages, and wrapping an extra layer of protective cloth over them. The healer held off from giving the tauren a back-up bandage, having deduced that Brekk had no penchant for water and so wouldn't likely be bathing before the thing was healed and the bandage rotted off; he having no faith that the tauren would have the good sense to remove it. He smelled worse than shit now, but that was just the funky soap residue and the equally stinking herbal poultice he'd dressed into the wound doing their job.

"Dere. Now don't go pickin' at it," he counted off on both of his fingers, back and forth, "… itchin' it, gettin' it wet, and for da love o' da gods don't take off dat bandage until da ting is healed!" He let his hand hover until he was certain he'd not forgotten anything and then let it drop to his side. Brekk looked back at him with a bland expression. "How do I know?"

"Know _what?_"

Brekk snorted and rolled his eyes, shrugging his arms out to the sides a bit, "When it's done healin', Larry." Larizu licked his lips and raised a brow. Brekk shook his mane. Larizu reeled back and slapped the bandaged wound hard enough to jar his own wrist. He danced backward as the tauren screamed and doubled over to grab his own leg in both hands. "What the hell gives?" he roared.

"Dat hurt?"

"_Yeah_ it stinkin' _hurt_!" he panted.

Grinning, shaking his sore wrist and stinging hand, Larizu wiggled his eyebrows at Brekk and chuckled darkly. "Den ya know it ain't ready yet." Now normally, if a guy had caused Brekk that much pain on purpose, let alone more than _once_, he'd have charged him through a wall or worse. But it was late, he was tired, he was hungry, and he still had to feed Luanne. Besides, the day had been quite eventful and the injury, the long walk, and then his near-nude exploits in the city combined had taken the wind out of his proverbial sails.

Nodding and releasing his leg though it throbbed like a mother, Brekk straightened out and snorted. "How much do I owe ya?" Before Larizu could even think of a number, Brekk held out a hand and stopped him, "Wait! Wait, lemme see here…"

Larizu unfolded his arms and tilted his head in curiosity as Brekk turned the great wall of his back toward him and started screwing with something. The tauren seemed to stand stock-still, but for the intermittent swish of his tail and Larizu began to wonder if he'd had some sort of seizure when he finally shrugged and turned back.

"There," Brekk stated. Larizu had to thrust both hands forward, palms up, to catch the shining pile of gold coins that Brekk transferred quickly to his possession. Even then, a good half of the coins rolled down the insides of his arms and scattered on the floor. Luanne picked one up, turned sharply, and strode out the door. That was fine, he could afford it. He could afford a lot of things now. Brekk called after Luanne halfheartedly, "Babe! C'mon now." His tone was exasperated as he turned back to the stunned troll, "Women." Brekk shook his head and continued.

"Now I ain't no mathemagician, but I think that'll more than cover it, Larry. If ya want, I can wait while ya count it out." Larizu tore his eyes from the shining treasure that continued to spill from his hands to the floor. He looked up at Brekk, his mouth hanging open, the pink of his tongue pressing out between his sharp lower teeth. Brekk twisted his head to the right and regarded him with his left eye, "What're ya drunk, Bub?" He waved a hand dismissively before the flabbergasted troll could attempt to answer, "Keep tha change, Pal," he eyed him up and down and then turned away, "… buy yerself a new dress er somethin'. He snorted as he left, and this time it was with laughter.

A new dress. Man, he should write that one down.

Larizu was laughing too, quietly, but his eyes were a bit wild as he sunk to the floor to roll in his newly acquired fortune.

Brekk shrugged as he limped away from the hut. Luanne joined him on the road to the city's center, the coin she'd taken conspicuously absent. The still-shirtless tauren's pants had become shorts, though one leather leg was markedly longer than the other. It was quite a fashion statement. Brekk had time to admire his shiny new weapons as the pair silently made their way toward dinner.

* * *

End of chapter. When the fuck will the servers be back up?

Oh, Blizzard and I never had sex except that one time, but it meant nothin' baby, yadda yadda ya- Uh… What I mean is, I don't own WoW but I own my characters. -_-


	4. Chapter 4

"Oh fer the luvva…" Brekk bent down and itched his left leg, though it was the right one that was bothering him. Larizu hadn't said anything about messing with the undamaged leg, so Brekk assumed that it was okay. Still, he glanced around warily.

His bow and quiver bounced against his back, jostled between the muscles there and the heavy sack he had hoisted over one shoulder. Luanne followed closely; she appeared much more interested than usual for her. She even appeared to be breathing as she crossed the sand with long strides. Brekk had uttered, "Keep the change," a dozen times in the past hour and he was grateful to be out of the now torch lit city and back in Durotar. As much as he preferred to avoid the river, he knew that the sand would be hot well before he planned to wake up in the morning. Keeping that in mind, he'd decided that he and Luanne would make the trip back across the desert, cross the bridge to the Barrens and camp somewhere close to the bridge.

The sack wasn't too heavy for a guy like Brekk, but it wasn't fun to sling around either. "Hmm… should lighten this up." They arrived at the river bank, near a line of stunted trees and Brekk settled on the ground after relieving himself of his burden. Dragging the sack between his legs, he unballed a wrinkled cloth and flung it onto the ground. Luanne strode over and settled on one corner of the stained and checkered picnic blanket. Brekk proceeded to lay out half of their fare: a dozen ham shanks, two-dozen apples, two bunches of bananas; a dozen loafs of bread, and a dozen pounds of beef jerky. Man he loved beef jerky. He didn't even care what part of the pig them things were.

Brekk brought out two of a dozen full water-skins that were in the bottom of the sack. He wasn't no mathemagician, so he just opted to buy things in twos and dozens. Surprisingly, he almost always got the right amount. Tearing apart the bread with shaking hands; he wasn't used to going more than two hours without eating a single thing, Brekk handed two destroyed loaves over to his girl. She nearly took off the end of one of his fingers, but he managed to jerk it away before she got past the hoof-like nail and into the meat. "Holy …"

Licking his lips in anticipation, Brekk lifted a ham in his left hand and ripped into it ravenously as his right hand fumbled across the blanket in search of an apple. It grabbed a loaf of bread instead and he shrugged, "Whnmbr" Whatever.

Brekk groaned tiredly, pushed his hat off of his eyes with one finger, and rubbed at his face with both ham-hands. Screw bathing. He'd just have to find a woman who really loved ham who would accept him and understood that swimming wasn't fun and bathing was overrated. He was a beautiful specimen of tauren maleness, only more of a handsome specimen because he wasn't into any of that funny stuff. He wasn't a hundred percent sure what the funny stuff was, but he knew he wanted no part in it. Brekk was all man.

Brekk was a tired young man. Yawning and shaking his mane, he rubbed his ham finger across his teeth. Gross. Time to chew some grass and rinse out his mouth, but first he'd have to take care of the ache in his bladder, which was what had awakened him in the first place. Then he'd sleep. Then he'd wake up and worry about his breath.

"Stupid sonofa…" he cursed his bladder for conspiring with the dozen jugs of water. "I tell ya, a man can't get any sleep without…" he mumbled at the malevolent gods of piss. Moving behind some trees, he fumbled with his belt, his eyes so heavy-lidded that they appeared to be closed. "Aw c'mon ya little…" he yanked at the stubborn belt that held up his pants-turned-lopsided-shorts. "I ain't got time for this," he wasn't lying. Man, he had to piss. Finally, the belt gave and he hurriedly opened his pants and snorted and leaned his head back, holding his hat one with one hand as he graced the side of a fairly distant tree with his gift of wee-wee.

Just as he finished, there was a sound just beyond his left shoulder. His ears twitched, blood-shot eyes flying open. Brekk buckled his pants… er, his new shorts and turned around, suppressing a yawn behind his closed fist. There it was again! Brekk stomped forward, his limp far less pronounced due to the wonders of modern medicine and disgusting secret ingredients.

"What the…" The sound was coming from inside of a big old tree, large enough that he couldn't even get his arms around it. "What in the…" It was a quiet shuffle. It could be a Night Elf. He hoped it was a Night Elf. "On accounta I ain't killed one since last night," he thought aloud. Even an idiot could see that a Night Elf could easily have gotten into that tree. Shoot, there was a big hole right there in the front of it and a skinny, prissy elf could certainly have shimmied right in there. If he were a Night Elf, the thought of him as a Night Elf made him squeeze his fists in rage; he wouldn't pass up the opportunity to hide in such a large tree.

Brekk snorted, the thick ring in his nose standing out momentarily in the mighty gust from his nostrils. His mane felt prickly as he pawed at the ground with one hoof, his agitation growing rapidly. What the hell was a Night Elf doing screwing around so close to his camp? What kind of disrespectful, purple-skinned, wispy moron would dare encroach on his constantly shifting territory? Maybe it was after his leftover food. Maybe it was fixing on kidnapping his Luanne.

"Oh that does it!" Brekk snorted. He lowered his horns and shoved his head right in the conveniently-located hole. "Hey!" he shouted, "Get out here and fight like a…" No was that was gonna happen. "Get out here so I whoop yer butt!" The shuffling sound repeated once and then stopped abruptly.

Luanne fixed her disinterested, blank stare on Brekk and the tree, or at least in that general direction. Her claws flexed momentarily as squirrel exited a small knothole near the base of the tree the tauren was yelling into. Blinking, she turned her head the other way.

Brekk snorted and jerked his head back. "False alar…" Oh crap.

The tauren braced his hands on either side of the tree, shoving roughly. When that didn't work, he took to punching it, but that only made his head ache. Brekk went back to shoving, but quickly ascertained that there was a very real danger of him ripping his own head off. More importantly, he was really tired and didn't feel much like struggling right now. Shrugging his shoulders - what are ya gonna do? – He leaned against the tree and closed his eyes. Somehow his hat had stayed on. He hoped it didn't rain. At least he'd had the good sense to buy a new vest in case it got chilly. Brekk wasn't no dummy. He'd made sure the clothier had unbuttoned the vest so that it didn't get ripped up on his horns. A man who learned from his mistakes was wise. Yep, no torn shirt for him.

Brekk snorted, tried to shake his mane but mostly just shook the tree. That was a good sign, he could rip the tree apart when he was more well-rested. Just in case…

"Hey Luanne! Do Daddy a favor and go find a treesmithe or somethin', Babe." There. Now all the bases were covered. All he had to do was wait. "Deja Poo," he sighed. In some fancy orc-speak that meant "Not again." Well, at least he didn't have a date to miss this time. Brekk let himself sag against the tree. At least he had a strong neck. He began to snore.

Three hours later:

Vaggar squinted up at the sun as he strode easily across the bridge that spanned the weakly-trickling Southfury River. He lowered his gaze to scan the horizon, but kept squinting. Vaggar was a squinter, and a sharp-eyed one at that. The late-middle-aged blood elf paused and squinted at the back of a familiar tauren, who was in an unsurprisingly compromised position. He might have smiled. He was certainly amused.

"Need some help, Brekk?" The tauren winced, broad shoulders rising as his tail began to flick. He'd recognized Vaggar's voice the minute the elf started talking. Vaggar was always ticking him off, making him look like a stupid idiot. Not to mention he was always talkin' to his bird, telling Brekk how to take care of her when he damn well knew what his girl wanted and didn't want.

Brekk snorted and spoke slowly, through clenched teeth. "No I don't need no damn help. Luanne went ta get a treesmithe hours ago and by my calcufications he's gonna be here any minute. You might as well scram, Vaggar." He said the word Vaggar like it was a curse. To Brekk, it was one.

Vaggar looked at the thick tree and the thick tauren who'd lodged his thick head in it. He turned his sharp, squinting gaze toward the shredded food sack, the torn bread scattered all around it. He locked eyes with the tall pink plainstrider that stood still as a statue, facing him.

Vaggar nodded politely at Luanne. Luanne blinked back mutely but remained otherwise still.

Squinting at the tauren's back, Vaggar didn't hesitate, "Sure thing, Brekk. See you later."

"Not if I can help it," came Brekk's clever reply. Vaggar nodded at Luanne again as he passed her. She settled down and tucked her beak into her back. Brekk pondered the myriad possibilities of ham.

* * *

_Author's note: Hahaha "wee-wee"_

The character Vaggar is one of my favorite creations of my good buddy Kolton. I have used him with his express permission. If a blood elf were Clint Eastwood but even cooler, I think that might be Vaggar. Brekk's more of a John Goodman type if I had to pick. Maybe he sounds like Baloo from Jungle Book? At any rate, I hope you enjoyed reading. Comments always very, very appreciated.

~I'wilo


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